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She detaches from Nate and closes the distance between us, slotting into my arms, which I open without hesitation for her. Still, she doesn’t speak. When I look up to ask Nate, he’s too absorbed in watching Rosy, his brow furrowed harshly with concern. Finally, he looks up at me, but his shoulders drop as his head shakes.

That’s not good.

A vibrating noise has Nate retrieving his phone from his pocket. “Logan,” he answers curtly. “Hold on,” he says after a moment before looking at me. “The others home?”

“Should be. Max is home from work but might still be in the shower, and Noah’s working in his room.”

Nate nods, walks off, then returns shortly with both of them in tow.

“Honeybee?” Max questions, a hint of worry in his tone as he comes up behind her.

Rosy sniffles, then turns and settles in his arms.

“Hey, we’ve got you, pretty girl.” Eyes widening at me, he mouths, “What the fuck?”

Just as bewildered, I shrug, completely at a loss and struggling to deal with the rising panic. Physically, she’s in one piece, which is reassuring, but her silent falling apart is hard to watch. I’ve no clue what’s going on or what I can do.

“Logan wants to update us,” Nate informs us, dropping onto a sofa and placing his phone on the coffee table. “You’re on speaker.”

“Okay, thanks. Can you or Rosy talk me through what happened today?” Logan asks.

Nate glances at Rosy as Max leads her over to the other sofa and sits, pulling her into his lap. Noah sits beside them, linking his fingers with Rosy’s. I squeeze in on Max’s other side. It’s tight, and logically, it would make sense to sit on the other sofa with Nate, but it’s too far from her.

She’s where I need to be right now.

“We were in one of the back fields, by the cowshed. We heard a loud fucking crack from the trees, so I pushed Rosy down and covered her. It was the only one. I didn’t hear or see anything else,” Nate says.

My heart lurches at the thought of Rosy getting hurt.

“Okay, it doesn’t seem to have been a gunshot, and there’s no evidence pointing to that either. We found an area just behind the treeline that looked freshly scuffed up, with trampled leaves and broken branches. Since that could’ve been wildlife, we’re not treating it as suspicious yet. Can you think back to what you were doing before you heard it? Did you see anything?”

“We…um…we’d been cleaning out the shelter. Nate had pulled me outside. He was hugging me and we…um…kissed, so we weren’t looking around,” Rosy stutters, a flush crawling across her pale cheeks.

“Thank you. We’ll keep looking. But, Rosy, we’re still investigating and trying to find him. Please know we aren’t sitting here doing nothing. We’re doing everything we can to find him. Is there anything you can think of that might help us in the investigation? Anything at all?” Logan pushes.

Rosy’s thumb moves anxiously, rubbing back and forth against her index finger.

“I…don’t know. We didn’t talk much about things outside of work. I remember he’s allergic to cats, but he was really interested when I first told him about my volunteer work.” She shudders.

I hate that her love of animals is somewhat tainted by how he saw and treated her. As his pet.

“So, he knew where you volunteered?” Logan questions. It’s not accusatory, but Rosy still stiffens.

“Yes,” she whispers, full of regret.

“That’s good information, Rosy. It’s normal to have conversations with people you work with. Is there anything else you can recall?”

She shakes her head. “It’s hard to remember. He mainly stayed in the flat above the office, but I know he had another place. He’d offered to car share to work before. I…don’t know where that is.”

“Nothing’s come up in our searches about any other properties, so that’s new information we can use. Rosy, I know what you’ve been through—and what you’re still going through—is a lot. If you haven’t already, I’d recommend reaching out to talk to someone. I can get you details if you need them.”

Rosy’s thumb still rubs a frantic rhythm across her finger. I slide my palm across hers, replacing her thumb with mine, circling gentle strokes so as not to irritate her skin.

“I have details for someone. I’ll…speak to them.” She sounds dejected, lost within herself.

“You don’t have to if it’s something you don’t want to do. But it can really help some people,” Logan advises.

Rosy doesn’t reply, and Nate takes over the call, ending it pretty swiftly.